


My Soul Knows Yours

by MrsRen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst bomb, F/M, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Student/teaching assistant, Time Travel, going forward, teddy - Freeform, young remus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:15:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29470050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRen/pseuds/MrsRen
Summary: In a mishap, Remus Lupin of the 1970's is brought forward due to a soulmate charm. At the other end of the bond, Hermione is left stunned and out of sorts. While fighting the growing feelings they have for one another, both Hermione and Remus are trying to find their footing in a world that is not the one they've always known.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin
Comments: 18
Kudos: 112
Collections: Evil Author Day - MrsRen





	My Soul Knows Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Also part of Evil Author Day, but will be completed at some point in time as a gift to Mae.

October 29th, 1998

Hermione exhaled, blowing her stubborn bangs from her face as she made her way through the castle. Of course, Harry and Ron wanted to leave their assignment for the last possible moment. That was so like them, wasn't it? Though when she stopped to think about it, there was a falter in her step.

After everything they'd been through, weren't they owed the chance at a regular year in Hogwarts? A regular year—not that any of them had ever had one—would include procrastination when it came to assignments, Quidditch, and breaking curfew. They had done the last one quite a few times, but only when it came to underhanding a psychopath.

She heaved another sigh. Apologies could come later, which her two friends would milk until the novelty of it wore off. A part of it was a result of her own issues, ones that could hardly be placed on their shoulders.

It wasn't as if Hermione had been _reasonable,_ and just _talked_ to them. That would have been too simple!

Ginny passed her in the corridor with Luna's arm looped through hers. "Hey, Hermione! We're headed down to the pitch for a while if you want to come by later. I know it's not as entertaining for you... " She trailed off. "Is something wrong?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not at all. I'm going to work on a Charms assignment, but I'll try to make my way down there soon." She smiled. "Hi, Luna." Ducking around the two girls before the more eccentric half could say something, well, _eccentric,_ Hermione escaped through the nearest entrance of the library.

There was something to be said about the way her heart pounded during the simplest interactions with the classmates she considered friends. As if there were something just below her skin, itching madly until she escaped, it was all she could do to hold a conversation or half of one.

Shouldering her bag, Hermione made her way down the shelves, dragging her finger along the ageing spines, until she landed on the book she needed. It was a ragged copy, the spine collapsed, and the cover was about to fall off. It would completely fall apart within a few more terms, and magic wouldn't be able to stitch it back together, she imagined.

Carefully holding it together, she spotted a slip of parchment sticking out from the front. _A student probably left their notes._ She settled into the chair she always used, crossing her legs at the ankle as she opened the cover. "Mother of Merlin," Hermione gasped.

It was well of six hundred years old if the title page was to be believed. Surely it was the oldest tomb in the Hogwarts library, or close to it. Why wasn't it kept in the Restricted Section for safekeeping? Madam Pince was overbearing when it came to her books…

She chanced a look at the librarian, half expecting the woman to notice the tome she held, and rip it from her hands. For some reason she didn't understand, Hermione hated the idea, and angled herself with her back faced toward the front of the librarian.

The spine gave a low creak, and her eyes widened. _She would just need to be very careful to not damage the book anymore._ As was her habit, Hermione pulled the parchment from between the dusty pages. It was curiosity that led to it. Sometimes she found meticulous notes, or other times a girl had doodled on the edges of an assignment.

In second year, Hermione found a note that was a love letter addressed to Harry, from one Ginny Weasley, and she'd set it on fire. It wouldn't have done anything but cause a dilemma had Harry received it.

Hermione unfolded it, laying it on the table and flattening it with her hand.

 _Do you believe in this rubbish?_ was written in a messy script, rivalling Harry's.

 _Yes._ The reply was written in cursive, the loop of the first letter neatly looping into the second, and Hermione lingered on that. _Just because you only believe in getting into a girl's knickers and leaving doesn't mean everyone else does, you ponce._ Though the parchment was aged, it was clear that the one to write the second had been pressed down roughly, the ink bleeding furiously from their quill.

It was interesting.

_I don't just leave them, Moony._

_Sixth year. Prove me wrong._

_SIXTH YEAR WAS DIFFERENT. YOU SAID YOU UNDERSTOOD!_

_About that mate…. I lied._

Hermione's hands shot to her mouth to stifle her laugh. She wondered who the two arguing were. Moony was clearly a nickname, and one she'd heard before, but evidently, someone else had thought of it too.

_You've taken one or two tumbles in a broom cupboard. Don't pretend that you're any better than I am._

_Yes, I snogged my girlfriend—a key word missing from your vocabulary—in a broom cupboard after patrols. You wouldn't know what those are, but when a student is very, very good, they get a shiny badge. It gives them powers to take points from you for being such a dumbarse._

_That's shite. Where's my shiny badge then?_

_You've never been good in your life._

_Neither have you, shitehead._

_Yes, well, I'm better at hiding it. Just this morning, you openly flirted with McGonagall._

_She was giving me detention. Minnie loves me._

Hermione's eyes widened. _Minnie?_

_Sure she does. That's why she gave you three detentions instead of the one._

Hermione folded up the parchment, her lips curved into a wide smile while her shoulders shook. She set to writing her notes, fact-checking the information she'd already learned as she went.

As she scribbled _a soulmate charm can transcend time and space_ and _it can invoke itself without a caster,_ Hermione neglected to notice the pages sparking below her left hand, hidden by a curtain of riotous curls.

* * *

October 30th, 1978

"Moony…" Sirius sang.

Remus buried his face in his pillow, covering his ears as he bent the pillow around his head. "Go away. It's Saturday."

His bed dipped below a sudden weight, probably Sirius' knee. "Wake up, you said you'd come with us today. James and Peter are already downstairs."

He groaned. "I don't want to go."

"Are you mental? Marlene McKinnon and a bunch of other birds are doing yoga by the Great Lake. How can you _not_ want to go?"

Wearily, Remus lifted his head just long enough to glare at his friend. "I don't want to watch them, Sirius. It's a bit too creepy for my taste."

"Creepy?" Sirius echoed, looking aghast.

"Lecherous, whatever," Remus waved his hand. "Why is James going? He's already won Lily over."

"Lily is also doing yoga, and we both know James isn't going to give this chance up." Sirius shook his shoulder. "Come on, you can have a lie-in anytime!"

"No, I really can't Not with you lot always waking me up for something. Leave me be." Remus ripped the blanket over his head. "I'll meet you later, but not before noon."

Sirius grumbled under his breath, calling him several colourful names, but the door swung shut moments later.

 _Finally,_ Remus thought. He'd been running behind on sleep since the full moon and had yet to catch up. It was already difficult to drag himself through classes in the week following, but why Sirius thought he was going to tag along to watch yoga, he had no idea.

As he was on the edge of sleep, dreams skirting around him, the bedside table seemed to be...vibrating? Remus shot up, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight. His glasses tipped over the edge as the entire table rocked back and forth. Opening the drawer warily, Remus found the book he'd checked out yesterday was glowing.

He ought to not pick it up. It would be better to involve a professor since he didn't know what could happen, but Remus stretched out his hand anyway. The book written on soulmates was decrepit, a few users away from disintegrating. At first glance, it didn't appear to be particularly interesting.

At a later glance, considering it was glowing around the edges, it might have been special.

He picked up the book, magic pooling around his fingertips as they made contact. Remus sat crosslegged, rubbing his eyes, as he opened the book. Curiously, the parchment that held his and Sirus' squabble had vanished.

There was a set of notes in place of it. "What?" Remus quietly mused while he lifted it. The notes were much like the ones he had in his own bag, detailing soulmate charms, the causes, and effects. Only they hadn't come from him. The writing was feminine, the i's dotted neatly, and the t's crossed with a straight line.

He stared at the parchment for a long moment, several seconds passing as he searched it. There wasn't a name, but he found the initials H.G. and there was a date in the upper corner of 29/10, the year left off the end.

He'd checked the book out yesterday morning, just as the library opened. How could someone have put their notes inside of it, and taken his when it had been with him since?

Between the next two pages, he found a short paragraph. It seemed to be a journal entry, and dread filled him as his eyes focused on one word: _war._

_I've decided not to meet Harry and Ron at the pitch even though I know I'm acting like a coward. Something has shifted since the end of the war. They make the effort to remain friends, but I know they've moved forward, and I'm… I'm stuck. I remember everything, a sick replay in my head, and I can't forget. I don't know how they can adjust to being back at Hogwarts where everyone—_

_I can't even say it to myself. I don't know how they can stand to walk into the Great Hall. I'm not sure I'll ever reach that point._

Parchment was thin, light, but as he held it, he found himself with a weight that only grew heavier. The war was ongoing, current, just outside the castle walls. Remus didn't know where all of them would go after school, but he was certain that all paths would lead to violence, one way or the other.

She spoke as if the war were over, as if Hogwarts had been ground zero.

Remus didn't know why he pocketed her thoughts. They weren't his, but he found that he was unable to help himself. Reaching for the table, he plucked a quill and scrap of parchment from inside.

 _Who are you?_ He shut the book, trapping his words amongst the pages, and waited.

* * *

October 31st, 1998

Hermione stared at the note for twenty-four hours, opening the book several times throughout the day to be sure she hadn't imagined it. Her paper was gone, and her stomach was in knots ever since. Everywhere she looked, she wondered if she was looking at the student who had nicked her words for themselves.

Over the day, nothing happened. No one stared at her in her classes, and not one person approached her.

"'Mione!" Ron yelled.

Her head snapped up and she slammed the book shut, wincing immediately at her harsh treatment of a book that was already going to fall apart. She didn't need to speed up the process any. "What is it?"

The corner of his mouth twitched. "You didn't hear a thing, did you?" Ron laughed. "They're throwing a party in Hogsmeade for Halloween."

She knew that, she just hadn't planned to go. "It's for Samhain, Ron. There will be rituals for it."

He'd already tuned her out, as soon as her tone switched to the one she used for academics. "Yeah, yeah. Adults will be doing that, but we'll be up to our ears in Firewhisky in the Three Broomsticks."

It sounded like a time that would result in her throwing up for the majority of the next morning. "I'm not getting drunk." She muttered, and Harry bumped her shoulder without breaking his conversation with Ginny. "I'll come, but I'm bringing my book with me."

Ron sighed, but let it go since it was the only way she could be coerced into going.

* * *

_How did you get my book? I've had it since yesterday._

Hermione finally swallowed her pride, unsure of what would follow, but one thing was for certain: it was a mystery, and she wanted to unravel it. The Three Broomsticks was a flurry of chaos around her, her friends clinking their tumblers together, and booze sloshing from the edges. She cast a water repelling charm to keep the book from being ruined.

After sixty-nine agonising seconds-she had counted while the contents of her dinner rolled over in her belly-Hermione watched the paper she'd just slid against the spine _vanish._ Squeaking, she lifted the book, her high regard for keeping it in pristine condition slipping as she held the book by the cover and shook it.

Nothing fell from the pages beyond dust.

"Hermione?" Ron said from beside her, arching an eyebrow. "What are you doing?" His speech wasn't slurred, not yet, but his breath smelled of booze.

She swallowed. If Ron had noticed her odd behaviour, it was likely everyone else would too. "I lost my notes. I just didn't want to rewrite them."

He laughed lightly. "I'm sure they're in your dorm. Why don't you have a drink? You've been on edge, haven't you?"

Her eyes widened. "You noticed?" Hermione breathed.

Ron looked offended. "I know I used to have the emotional range of a teaspoon, but I've got at least the range of a tablespoon now." He slung an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her. "Come on, just drink something. It doesn't have to be firewhisky."

Surprising him, but mostly herself, Hermione ordered just that. She sipped it slowly, the liquid burning a path down her throat.

She couldn't be sure when the reply appeared because Hermione had been too busy talking, or drinking, or some combination of the two. Still yet, there was a folded piece of parchment tucked inside where hers had been.

_I ought to ask you the same thing. I checked this out days ago, and no one has had it since. Who are you?_

Hermione glanced around her. No one was watching her, too busy minding their own business to notice that while she always had her nose in a book-they thought that, but she hated that she was put into one category-this was no normal book.

_My name is Hermione._

_Then you don't go to Hogwarts._ The reply appeared instantly, and Hermione rose from the bar after downing the rest of her glass.

"I'm going to head back to the castle." Hermione whispered to Ron, apologetic as she interrupted his retelling of Gringotts. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He nodded. "Do you want me to walk you back, or are you okay?"

Hermione murmured that she was fine before stealing out of the building. Off the path, she sat on a bench that was halfway to the castle, sitting cross-legged.

_Pardon? I'm currently a student here._

_What's your house?_

_Gryffindor._

_Impossible then, because there is no Hermione in Gryffindor. I would know._

_Since you're a prefect? It seems to me that you're slacking then._ As Hermione replied, and the note vanished, a stone sunk in her stomach. She didn't fancy herself as popular, far from it, but there wasn't a witch or wizard in Wizarding Britain that didn't know her name. _You don't recognise the name, Hermione Granger?_

_Should I? I'm a seventh year, and I can assure you that I've not once heard of you._

Seventh year. Seventh year.

That didn't make any sense. Hermione picked up the self-inking quill, scribbling a reply that would either force the other party to admit this was a far-fetched joke, or that-

She gulped. The other option was that she was toying with magic she didn't understand at all.

_Have you ever heard of Harry Potter?_

Seconds turned into minutes, and Hermione thought she'd won. It was all just a juvenile prank, nothing to work herself into a tizzy over. It wasn't as if-

_The only Potter I know is James Potter. There's his parents, Charlus, and Dorea, but. I'll ask him if he knows a Harry._

Her screech echoed in the trees, forcing several birds from them. She scribbled furiously, digging her quill into the parchment. _DO NOT DO THAT._

_Why not? He's right beside me. Granted, he's pissed, but he'll remember the names of his relatives._

_Please don't._ Hermione couldn't breathe. Her heart pounded in her chest as something vicious twisted her stomach. _Can you tell me the date?_

_It's Halloween._

_No, I mean the year. I need to know the year. Do you have a newspaper clipping you could place inside the book?_

_You're very strange._ Her worst fears were confirmed as a clipping of the Daily Prophet appeared to her. She lifted it, panic clawing its way up her ribcage.

31\. 10. 1978.

_DARK FORCES GATHER IN THE WIZARDING WORLD_

She vomited, the firewhisky burning her throat as she heaved in the brush. A cold sweat broke out across her forehead, her hands growing clammy. Twenty years.

There were twenty years between the two of them. The realisation that she could be speaking to someone who was _dead_ now weighed on her, and she glared at the book, still open on the bench she'd abandoned.

_Hermione?_

_What is your name?_ She had to know, didn't she? Speaking to someone from the past could have devastating consequences. What if it changed the timeline and the war they had gone through was for nothing?

Yet she still asked, still had to know, and she didn't look away when a familiar name landed in front of her.

_Remus._

She slammed the book shut as if it burned.

This wasn't happening.

It couldn't be allowed to happen.


End file.
